Proverbs 26:11

"As a dog returns to its vomit, so a fool repeats his foolishness."  

I must say, I love that we have lives filled with hope.  Without hope, we truly would be desperate. We would be a sad pathetic bunch of people that scurry throughout our days and for what?  At a basic level, we can hope for all sorts of things. We hope that the sun will come out after a particularly long cold rain.  We hope that our favorite sports team will win the championship game.  We hope that mom is not serving liver and onions for dinner.  We hope that our sick family member will feel better soon.  

As parents, I would venture to say that as we hope, we also pray as it pertains to our children.  We pray with hope that they will make wise decisions when they are not in our company.  We hope that they will take hold of the opportunities in life that they have before them, while we pray that they have the wisdom to see them as such.  We pray for their futures with hope of success for each at the level they can achieve.    

hope

hōp/

noun

1. 1.

   a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen.

   "he looked through her belongings in the hope of coming across some information"

   synonyms:

   aspiration, desire, wish, expectation, ambition, aim, goal, plan, design

So knowing what the Bible says about the fool repeating his foolishness, in the manner of a dog returning to its own vomit, I still had hope for Grumpy.  Hope that in the midst of this thing called life, that he was growing and maturing and learning appropriate skills needed to be successful in life. ( Come on already, in less than two years the state will consider him an official adult.)   However, it has become clear that my idea of his success was mired by an excessive amount of hope.  

So here is the back story:  Grumpy has been working a part time job for about 3 months, and he has been moderately successful  (while he doesn't have the  best attitude about going to the job) he manags to be prepared for work, dressed appropriately (except the one day he wanted to go in his pj's because "no one else wears their uniform") being on time and according to his boss, he is doing a fine job.   While all he talks about are all the free lemons and pickles he can eat, and the free meal he gets after each shift, it seems that this position is a good fit for him currently.  When he grumbles about how much he dislikes being a dishwasher, we share with him the multitude of reasons why he must continue to work hard at bettering himself, increasing his academics, be considering a trade school or college, all so that he doesn't have to be a dishwasher for his entire life. Not that a good dishwasher is not a needed and necessary part of any restaurant, as we tell him, if this is what God has called him to, then he needs to be the best dishwasher there ever has been.
Now because there is a host of generational and emotional issues going on in Grumpy's life, he has a history of highs and lows.  When he is in a high, he is easy going, helpful, respectful and falls into the parameters of what a "normal healthy" 16 and half year old male should be.  Enjoys being active, playing sports and is motivated easily to do the right thing.
In a low however the mood is drastically different.  Most often in lows he is controlled by an unrealistic reality that he has created in his mind, and when living in that reality he is quick to anger or to be pushed to extreme foolishness or out bursts when he is held accountable to the "real" world in which he lives. In this reality (or escape from it) he believes that he is the sports figure on the x-box game he is playing, that the shows he is watching are normal portrayals of real life. (shows like COPS or Locked Up of Zoey 101.) In these times of lows he will be irrational if asked to do a simple task reasoning that he should not have to do his laundry because, "LeBrone James doesn't have to do his laundry, he has people for that."  It is a hard line for him to be able to distinguish fact from fiction and he is often confused when watching movies etc about the real people and the roles that they are playing, as he often considers that the role is a portrayal of their real life.

Additionally, because he has no true friends, only what we as the adults in his life would consider acquaintances, he is emotionally lazy, and lonely.  The adage, to have friends, one must be a friend is a concept that is beyond the scope of what he is able to comprehend on a good day.   When he has someone over to the house, he cares for himself first and thinks of their needs as secondary. He will get a huge glass of water for himself and then almost as an aside, offer to the friend. He will with no announcement or explanation, walk away from a basketball game in the driveway for a wardrobe change, or a wardrobe enhancement, a snack, or to grab his music while said visitor stands wondering where Grumpy went, what they should do; follow or stay behind... social conventions are lost on the boy.

Okay I know, I sure am taking the long way around this to get to the meat of the story right?
So with much prayer, and a healthy dose of hope that Grumpy was starting to "get it", we entered into a two week conversation and consideration of allowing Grumpy the privilege of a cell phone.  Now I do not mean, we as in the Prince and I would pay for it, put him on our plan, and just let him run with unlimited usage.  As with all the other dwarfs in the kingdom, the first phone you have is a trac phone, that you are either gifted (holiday or birthday) or you purchase yourself, and then as the owner of the phone you are responsible for the purchase of the minutes, tracking the time and making sure that you are able to keep up the contract without voids in the service, hence showing yourself to be responsible for paying for a contracted service.  Additionally your phone, while you are the owner, is subject to frequent checks as we as the parentals determine if you are socially responsible enough to make good choices with said electronic device.

Now any of you that know Grumpy's past know that he is not a fan of accountability.  And when he wants something, he pretty much finds any crack or breach in the contract that will grant him access to what he wants.  He has in the past had opportunities with ipods and computers to use them with stringent parameters only to access other peoples electronics to look at and access questionable sites and engage in risky behaviors that could/would/should be considered cyber stalking and or bullying.  He has also gone as far as to purchase stolen electronics, only after a failed attempt to steal a phone for said selfish purposes.  Again, with much much conversation through out all these trials, and with many follow up conversations, removal of privileges and gains in other areas of his life, the Prince and I entered into this world of cell phone ownership with trepidation, and as I stated before a large dose of hope.

We even went as far as to write up a contract with him, to ensure that he would only add females to his phone that were his sisters, or myself.  That there would be no access to Facebook, twitter, or Instagram.  No usage of the phone while upstairs in the house, in his bedroom or in the bathroom.  No usage of the phone prior to noon during the week except in the am to check his text messages, as we have a no electronics or television until noon rule in affect in the summer.

So Tuesday July 7th, the Prince and Grumpy go to the Walmart to make their purchase.  He comes home and is super excited.  The novelty of a phone that is his very own, not stolen, not purchased without parents knowledge is a freeing experience for Grumpy.  He is able to use it out in the open, share videos with his siblings, text his friends and set up his devise with wallpapers, and notification sounds, all things that were the desires of his heart.  Life is good for about 3 days, and as I am the monitor of all things electronic, I start noticing a few little issues on the phone.  Calls to numbers that are not in his contact base, which I am assuming are girls numbers.  I just went through and deleted the numbers and the history of these from the phone.  His google searches were fine, there were a few items I questioned him on, however for the most part I was still filled with the hope that with gentle reminders, the consistent accountability of monitoring the devise that we would be able to make this work.  For the record,  I really did want this to work for Grumpy!   I wanted in my heart for him to have the things he desired, and to be able to use them appropriately and to enjoy the blessing of technology and all it has to offer.

I began to notice a shift in his disposition about four days ago, and I started to watch him even more carefully with the phone.  He was drawn to it like an addict.  When it was on the charger in my room, he would sneak in to it and begin using it. When he disappeared after work on Sunday to "go for a walk and listen to music" without seeking permission and then being bent that we would not trust him to do that, (that which he has NEVER done before) go off alone... my suspicions that I was missing something became stronger.    I again accessed the phone records, this time to see threads of text messages interrupted and prior conversations that were on record having been deleted.

So yesterday afternoon, I logged on to his gmail account only to find out that in a little more than a week's time he was able to have 161,000+ google circle chats and was following over 569 people/places or things on google.   Now I will admit, this circle thing is foreign to me.  It is confusing.  But after about two hours of noodling and wading through it (with my hope fading fast) I was able to determine the following about Grumpy and his ability to make wise choices.

1) my hope was overly enthusiastic.
2) and as with a dog that always returns to its own vomit, Grumpy was unable to step away from the lure and sin of electronics and the alternative reality it creates, to enjoy the blessing of the technology afforded to him.

It is a very sad commentary on his life. In his mind all these greats and not so greats were his friends.  They were doing what he longed for, communicating with him, and he did not have to make any effort in the "relationship" aside from moving his fingers to tap out a message on a screen.   The synopsis of the types of circles that he had pushed his way into were either stars and professional athletes of whom were in his homeboy or family circle, or beautiful half dressed women in his love circle.    When initially confronted about this extreme increase in his number of following circles, we did not know the number of chats, nor could I find the content of the chats so he was able to do a little back peddling with the Prince, and explain his way out of the mess by claiming ignorance of how it all worked.  I believe the Prince also shared my hope that we could still get Grumpy to understand if we explained it well enough, or discussed the risks of this type of behavior.

Another 30 minutes of my time, and he was no longer able to dance out of any of the circle's as I found out how to read his comments and threads of comments.  Shocking for him, as initially he tried to claim that he did not say or make those comments on these circles.  The best I can figure is that he started following on a whim.  Waited for me to censor his actions and when I did not he built up his courage to begin chatting with these people from France, United Kingdom, the Netherlands...  so I began doing what any good mom would do.  I started deleting these contacts.  100's of them.  Because somewhere I still had the hope that if I "fixed" this, then we could start again.

While I am exterminating his friend circles, I notice that curiously those that it would be appropriate for him to interact with, he did not.  Not one note to a sibling or a friend from school or church.  Yet as I am listening to him and the Prince talk about this breach, he did not understand that all those people could also see his circles of strangers and his inappropriate communications with them.   As the Prince is sitting and talking to Grumpy about how this behavior is like that of an addict, and that it makes him seem desperate and makes him vulnerable, I begin to find chats where he was giving out his phone number, asking repeated times for people to chat with him, to call him, did they like him, because he thinks they are hot.... oh the list of social improprieties was vast!  Yet as I got to the deletion of about 246 of these so called "friends", a strange phenomenon began to occur.   These strangers, from other countries, began re adding him to their circles.  The world is full of Grumpys.  Socially unstable, unrealistic in their views of friends and relationships, that once their following drops by just 1 friend, they are seeking them out to restore the "relationship".

That was the straw that broke my hope.  I deleted the whole dang google account.  The prince took the phone.  For how long I can't say.  I do not care that this may be a very expensive lesson for him to learn, I in my heart I now believe that it will not make a dent in his deluded reality.  As with the fool who returns to his foolish ways, Grumpy is wired in a way that the line between fantasy and reality is so slim, that in no time they blur.  As I listened to him talk to the Prince, he could not understand for the life of him the magnitude of over 161,000 chats in 8 days.  That is an average of 20,000 chats a day... granted we are not talking about inspired literary responses, some were just a "k" or "lol" but none the less his fingers should be cramped for weeks based upon the sheer volume of chats.

I find that in the midst of parenting these special dwarfs, I need to remember that none of this is a surprise to God.  He has Grumpy right where he wants him.  I can only imagine the mess that he would be had he not spent the last 9 years with people that only seek to help him be successful.  Will the Prince and I ever see the benefits of the years spent in consistent parenting?  Probably not.  However none of this is about me.  This is his story, one that I have to trust to the Lord in the details of, as he loves Grumpy far more than I can even imagine.

Again, there is a hope each day, that for him success is in his reach, and today may be the day that he reaches for it, captures it and calls it his own.  He just will not be able to text anyone about his greatness or post it on social media!

You Can't Make this Stuff Up!



  

Ahoy, Matey!

So, here is a story about a dwarf that has had little coverage in my blogging history,  Dopey.  Aside from the occasional retelling of his tales of large feet and moments of complete "accidental" tomfoolery... he is a dwarf that flies under the radar.

Many months ago, the Prince received an email from our internet provider indicating that there was some questionable activity taking place on our account.  It was not specific, it was in no way enlightening as to what the "questionable" activity was. So the prince talked with all the kids and asked them not to download music, or movies or other items that they did not purchase.   All agreed.  A month later another note to the inbox.  This time it was clear whom to talk directly to, Dopey.

The Prince and Dopey had a long chat about the fact that downloading items, like his favorite movies, from sites that he "thinks" are safe is not a good idea.  If he wants movies then he should consider saving his money and purchasing them at the store.  Dopey indicated that he understood and would stop downloading movies from the internet.

Flash forward to this past Tuesday.  One by one, those in our kingdom, begin attempting to log on to the internet for various reasons through out the day, only to be given an error message:

Due to an account- related matter, your ability to browse the internet has been temporarily disabled. 

Since Doc needed the internet, to do some job related work, and she began the process of restoring our service.  After entering the correct access information, she was presented with a video to watch about copyright infringement, with a question and answer time at the end of the video.  In all her wisdom, Doc forced Dopey to watch the entire video from start to finish.

It seems the video may have been able to convey what the Prince was unable to do.  Project the severity of pirating movies from the internet.   Phrases like your records will not be released to the FBI without them attempting to warn you, the consumer first.  Penalty for pirating movies could include but are not limited to, suspension of services, slower internet speeds, fines, and imprisonment.   Well those things, all made Dopey sit up and take notice.   ( Yes, I know that I have said this before... that Dopey gets it)  Time will tell.  

The Prince however did institute a rule... for the next 30 days, Dopey has to start every sentence with Ahoy, Matey... and end each one with Arg!   This is the reminder that pirating movies off the internet is not acceptable EVER!  Maybe this time it will stick!

You really can't make this stuff up!

As We Look to Repeat

This morning while I was sitting in the quiet (and quite hot) silence of my lanai, pondering my morning devotions, working on some projects and preparing my to do list for the day, I happened upon a recently posted video from a time in our lives that we are looking to soon repeat.

I was stilled as I began to watch the video, that was full of hope for me as the momma of not one graduate, but also as I prepare to repeat this choice for another of my boys. I loved to see the grown men sharing about their time as adolescents at camp. I took great joy in the fact that they had been able to look back and share the good that they received from their experiences.   Imagine my surprise, when I heard my own voice on the video.  (It had been well over a year since I had been taped by this organization, and frankly had assumed that my portion had hit the editing room floor.) But as my words were being said, my current situation is again mirrored with another of our boys.  

Grumpy's youngest brother Bashful, is about to embark on this same journey (although in a different state and a camp with a different name) the feelings and the anxieties are the same for me, the momma.  It is one of the hardest things to do. Send your child to live a life away from you.  To trust that they will be cared for and loved in the same manner that you love and care for them.  To be able to see past the immediate of exhaustion and frustration and selfishness and trust that it will all be worth it in the end.  Is Grumpy fixed?  No.  Will Bashful be fixed?  No.  However, the things that they learn at camp, the experiences they share and work through in life away from our home help growth and healing to begin.  Let me be real for a moment.  The benefit to having the difficult, troubled, trying child/young adult being out of your home, especially after a prolonged journey to the pit of despair, is almost one of relief.  But healing is needed on all fronts.  Not just for the child that is hurting, but for the family unit that has had to deal with all that comes from their brokenness; explosive anger, and hurtful words and situations.  It takes time for all parties to get to a place where they desire to spend time together again as a unit.  Healing does and will happen. When I look back on where Grumpy was 5 years ago til now, the change is significant.  In the light of watching Bashful head down the same road the differences at times are glaringly obvious.  The similarities also glaringly obvious.  The end result still unknown. Hence hope.

I do not know the men in the video.  Grumpy is still many, many years away from being a fully grown man, but yet still I can see the hope for him.  The opportunities that are available to him because we did the hard thing, and sent him to camp, are limitless.  The changes in him are many.  While the day to day often blinds me to the progress that he has made, in these still small moments I am able to see and take stock of what they look like.  Today I rejoiced in them.  

As I wait on the opening in the sister camp here in Florida for a spot for Bashful, I can again relate to the feelings and emotions of being at the end of my abilities to provide emotional, physical and spiritual help for my son. Knowing that they are each created differently, yet so much the same, the only thing that I can hold on to is the hope that comes from watching this video, and the reminder of how far Grumpy really has come.

Now as we prepare to repeat the camp experience it is our prayer that as in the past, we will soon begin the healing, growth, and maturing process that we have seen beneficial in the past; in the life of yet another of our boys so desperate for help.   Join us in praying for a spot to open  soon (they are saying it will be fall) and for grace and unconditional love along this bumpy road of waiting.

While this is not a situation you ever think you will find yourself in as a parent, I am so grateful for the men that serve these boys, selflessly, graciously, pursuing them relentlessly as they hold them accountable to standards that will grow them into men that can love and serve their families and communities some day.... You really can't make this stuff up.

A trip to the dentist for Bashful

There are many many issues that Bashful struggles with... and when confronted with these issues,  he always says that he "can do" the required item, he just chooses not too... understand no amount of prompting or redirecting has thus far changed his mind about how he should handle his dental health (or any of his other struggles).

The process that got us to this place has been a slow and painful process.  Painful, in that every day sometimes three or more times a day, even at the age of 12,  I send Bashful back to the bathroom to re-brush his teeth.  Most times I watch him stand in the bathroom, in front of the mirror with a wet toothbrush, tap in on the sink counter, and dance a little and replace it, with the brush never going into his mouth.  On other times he has been observed, putting tooth paste on the brush, running the brush under the water (which is turned on so high) that the paste is blown off the brush into the bottom of the sink, and he places the empty brush in his mouth, and chews it and removes it.  Additionally there have been times when the brushing has been a straight in and out, on one side or on the top only, rarely in the front of his mouth, never on his tongue.

As with all our dwarfs, we set the course for good oral hygiene by setting a good example. (the Prince and I combined probably brush 5 or more times a day.) By doing it for the dwarfs when they were small, by shadowing them as they grew into toddlers, encouraging them through electric toothbrushes, fancy colorful and flavor filled kids toothpaste options covered in cartoon characters and bright colors, and we have purchased gallons and gallons of fast acting, mint tasting, plaque identifying rinse agents. Feel free to relive the fun oral hygenie story posted many years ago to understand how long we have been working on these type of issues.  http://www.malingle.com/2014/02/a-new-brand-of-toothpaste.html

However with all the tools he needs for the job, and all the redirection, teeth checks, and regular dentist visits, he has earned the affectionate name of "dog breath" here in the Kingdom, and has been directed on more than one occasions, randomly in the middle of the day to go brush away the funk... our motto is this:

"Brushing your teeth each morning is your gift 

to all that you are going to come in contact with today." 

A year ago, before the move, we had all the dwarfs go to our family dentist.  Everyone checked out just fine!   About four months ago, I noticed that Bashful had some additional "fangs" growing in his mouth over his already in place adult teeth. So, I started working on finding a dentist here in Florida that accepted our insurance, dealt with special needs, and had some good ratings as providers.  I called and had to wait many weeks for the appointment... and the day arrived finally.

X-rays are done and we sit in the chair. The hygienist "T" Bibs him up, tips back the chair and so begins the fun.  Literally she is not even putting pressure on his gums to brush them and they start to bleed.  As a casual observer from the corner, I can see that this is going to only get worse as she is just at the bottom rear of the first side of his mouth.  (for the record this dwarf has an incredible tolerance for pain, and a pride-fulness that never allows for him to admit pain or defeat) As T continues to work her magic cleaning his teeth, the blood is flowing freely, and they are having to clean out his mouth often as to keep a clear image of the teeth and the process of cleaning them.  Yet the dwarf has yet to flinch even once. I on the other hand am averting my eyes and feeling a bit squeamish. 

T gets the job done, and completes his final rinse... how she did it without a flinch or a raised eyeball is beyond me!  I am not sure if she was judging me as a parent, but I let her know in the beginning, (as I smiled brightly for her to see my dental hygiene routine was stellar) that Bashful was special, and that we are aware that his mouth has a lot of  potential problems, most concerning was the new arrival of the "fangs".

So we get his new toothbrush and toothpaste and floss and wait for the dentist to arrive...

What a delightful woman she is !  She scrubs up and settles in to take a look at the dwarf's mouth - she is reviewing the x-rays and matching up the mouth to the films... calling out the teeth by number and then adding the details of what needs to happen at each one if anything.  The progression is shocking as the mom, 9 cavities in total need drilled and filled, 2 of which will most likely need root canals because of the extent of the decay, and two removals (the fangs) as well as a diagnosis of gum disease.    Did I mention we are not discussing a 50 year old, but a 12 year old boy?

As the dentist begins to talk to me about the issues. I kindly stop her and instruct her to speak directly to the dwarf in the chair.   While I can see that one would assume that the parents are some how at fault or are ignorant of good oral hygiene, the words she was saying as the professional, but not the mom, are words that I say everyday, to him, sometimes multiple times a day which fall on deaf ears, cause significant attitudes, and often times complete meltdowns. Many times a week I hear his response to which is always the same.  " I don't want to brush, it is stupid.  I do not care if my teeth rot and fall out because I will buy new ones."    So I manage to redirect her, by also encouraging her that perhaps hearing it from Dentist, since I sound like Charlie Brown's teacher to him, would make this seem more serious, more pressing. 

To her credit she did a good job of discussing the seriousness of the situation with him.  He perhaps still did not get what she was saying until she told him that for a few weeks she would like his parents to oversee his brushing and flossing and that if we thought it was beneficial for him, that we should just brush and floss his teeth for him.  (that did not sit well with Mr I Can !!)  He wanted to make excuses of course and also asked if he could have braces to straighten his teeth, to which she indicated that no one would take the risk of putting braces in his mouth since most of his mouth was rotting.  (that was a good shock tactic)  Perhaps the final conversation that got his attention was this one:

Dentist: " Do you still think that girls have cooties?"
Bashful: "No."
Dentist: " I see, so you are starting to see that girls are cute and have nice smiles right?"
Bashful: "Yup."
Dentist: "So the smile is one of the first things you see about someone and it makes a big impact on others... when they see your smile they see gum disease and rotting teeth."
Bashful: "Fine I will stop smiling."
Mom: " I think what the Dentist is saying Bashful, is that when you are able to go on your first date you have to sit at the table and watch her enjoy steak while you sip on soup."
Dentist: " While I have never heard a mom be so blunt, she has a point."
Bashful: " Why can't I have the steak?"
Dentist:  "Because if you do not change the way you care for your teeth now, you will either have nothing left in your mouth but your gums, and you can't gum a steak and get it to your belly easily, OR you will have to spend all your money on new teeth, and you can only afford for one of you to eat the steak."

So Bashful has a summer of oral surgeries and procedures in front of him.  None of these will be pleasant and while he is a bit freaked out about the root canals and why he can not be put to sleep for them, we indicated that each and every day that he has fought us on proper tooth brushing procedures, refused to do what he is instructed  and to do it the right way, he was laying the ground work for this visit to the dentist.  This visit today was all about consequences that he has brought on himself.   He really should be grateful that we do not require him to get a job to pay for all this dental work!! I think a little discomfort and a couple root canals is more than fair consequences for years defiance, meltdowns, mouthing off and refusal to do one simple hygiene item...

You really can't make this stuff up.... but I am guessing that Bashful wishes that perhaps some of this was an exaggeration.... but it's not! 

"Your Momma..."

 I know many of you will read this post and will be thinking that Bashful was framed.  He is innocent.... well here is how the story goes, you determine which side of the story you land on at the end of it all.

At 11 AM yesterday my phone rings from the middle school number and I am greeted by the principle's voice on the other end.  "Mrs. Lingle, do you have a moment?"  Well of course I do.  He proceeds to tell me that Bashful is in his office, and that he has been involved in a fight and that he threw the first punch.  "Did I understand that the school has no tolerance for such behavior and that his (the dwarf's punishment) will be three day's out of school suspension." My response is really not one of more than our working out the details of the time off.  As  I wait for Basful to arrive home to tell his side of the story I vacillate between irritation and anger, however not knowing the whole story I try to keep my temper under control. 

As a side note, I think that out of school suspensions are just a big pain in the bum for the parents.  I can't imagine what working parents do... or how other parents deal with three days of "entertaining" their suspended children.  According to Bashful they get to sleep in late and play video games.  At our house an out of school suspension causes much work for the momma, because I refuse to allow the dwarfs to sit and do nothing. There is no sleeping in, no video games...   This is a consequence, and an interruption of my regularly scheduled day, so as the suspended dwarf, you will not be experiencing a vacation.   We have organized PE for 45 minutes, a writing assignment (on the first day it is typically a round of apology letters to the staff and students that had their day interrupted by the shenanigans that sent you to OSS ), math, as well as a list of chores created to suit the "crime".  But I digress... back to the story.

At first Bashful had a mouth full of attitude and sass as he began to tell his tale. I stopped him, and implored of him to lose his attitude, and to consider that a large amount of attitude and sass from him, in the manner that he relayed the story to the Prince and I, would only increase our irritation with him, and cause us to the "throw the book"  at him in regards to his punishment.  At this statement, his eyes got big, and he paused, shaking his head, and asked ..."Why are you going to throw a book at me."  If you do not find the humor in this exchange please refer back to my previous post about life with concrete thinkers!

So it unfolds; as Bashful was working with his reading partner, the class thug reportedly came up to him, and started posturing and trying to interrupt the work that the boys were doing,  All of which Bashful was able to look over and ignore, until in Bashful's words... "He then leaned into my face and said, Your momma is a big fat whale." " Mom, you know I don't play like that, nobody is gonna talk about my momma like that!"    Well there is a shock!  He talks about his momma that way.  However "game on" if someone else repeats what he says. So he stood up and swung, the other boy and he landed on the floor rolling around, and not only was the sheriff called to the room, but the class was disrupted, both boys got suspended and Bashful got rug burn on his arm as a souvenir.   

Now the Prince and I have some conflicting responses on what we would have liked Bashful to do in this situation.  I wish he would have just gotten up and walked back to his seat up front by the teacher so that the thug would stop bugging him.  The Prince's unofficial statement on the situation is stand up for yourself, and if you throw a punch, make it count. Especially if you are going to get three days of out of school suspension. 

I still find it laughable that a dwarf that spends the majority of his day disrespecting his momma, would stand up and get into  a fist fight to defend my honor.   I suppose there is still hope for our relationship!

You really can't make this stuff up!  And to prove it, today during his math lesson I asked him what number was in the middle of number 100 - to which he replied a zero!!  still chuckling here! 

Has it been 11 years?

It is amazing how fast time flies.  Eleven years ago the Prince and I embarked on a journey.  One that we knew we were called to, one that we knew would be a challenge. At the time we began the the journey did I have the ability or knowledge of so many unseen factors, nor the understanding that this may not end as a "happily ever after story".  I would say sincerely no.  I am not sure what I thought would happen as we progressed in this journey and the children started to age, and this post does not address those deep issues.....

However, as we have begun to meet folks here in our new home state, I have heard more times than I care to count these words and phrases:

" Wow, you must be amazing people."
" Your rewards in heaven will be great!"
"Those kids you rescued must be so grateful."    
" I would guess that your adopted kids are so grateful to be in such a wonderful home." 

While I am sure that these words  are intended to encourage us, or they are platitudes said because silence would be awkward, I would like to just comment from the heart about the above statements:

The prince and I are not "amazing" people.  We followed the calling of the Lord in our lives.  The amazing part is that in our sinful selfishness, we were able for the moment, see past ourselves, and focus on the clear direction of the Lord in regards to what He was calling us to do.   Yes, our rewards in heaven will be great, but not because of the fact that we adopted four special needs kids, but because we love Him, and it is our honor to serve Him.  That in times of goodness and in times of struggles we praise Him for the gift and for the trial.  We trust Him for our needs, and with our children's future, all 7 of them.

For the record, we did not rescue anyone.  If the truth is to be told, they have rescued us from a life filled with short sightedness, narrow mindedness and of being judgmental of others.  Because of them, and their uniqueness (sometimes I do call their uniqueness, their issues...) we have become more well rounded and tolerant of others, of who's stories we do not know just by glancing at them in passing.  In the midst of the hard things in life, we recognize that there is no way to know what is behind the "moment" in time that we are witnessing.  When your 12 year old pulls down his shorts in the store to show you that he is wearing the same underwear as that on display, I know that all who witnesses that scene were judging me, my parenting skills and the fact that my dwarf "looks normal".  However because of moments in time such as these, I am able to smile at the mom that is stressing over a situation with a "normal" looking kid, and not stare or be judgmental.  The only words that would come forth from my lips in that time, and only if it were appropriate, would be offer assistance or encouragement, as all to well I know the feeling of being judged wrongly based on a snap shot of time. 

Grateful by definition is feeling or showing appreciation.  In making a statement like the above mentioned, one would be assuming that my children are able to understand, comprehend and on some level have the emotional and intellectual abilities to be grateful.  I am sure on a basic level that they are thrilled to have a full pantry, indoor plumbing, electricity, comfortable beds and other niceties of a home as we know it, but the fact that many forget about,  is that these items to them are just expected because "everyone else" has them. They also think that when they grow up will be drafted to professional sports teams upon turning 18, that they can save their allowance and buy and drive expensive foreign cars, that the Lord has made a mistake in creating them and they are the wrong ethnicity, that they have no problems with math (even when they add 1/2 a cup of baking soda to a recipe instead of 1/2 a teaspoon), that they completely have a grasp on their finances, even when they turn over their entire wallet to pay for a purchase.  What additionally, they are unable in their minds to comprehend, is that they did not constantly have basic survival items prior to their coming to live in our home(running water, electricity, full fridge or pantry)  nor did they have any hopes of getting them or maintaining them during their existence prior to our home.  Yet at the same time,  they have an unrealistic remembrance of what their life was like prior to life in the kingdom.   A life where they ate grass because they were tied to a tree for the day and were hungry, or where the water was shut off and they drank ketchup when they were thirsty, or that when they were removed from their home the only thing in the fridge was a jar of salsa.    They live their current lives steeped in what they knew the first years of their lives, which was not so luxurious despite what they have been living in and with consistently for so many years.  They have an innate fear that this (the kingdom) is not real, even after 11 years that it will some day disappear.  (Side bar; as their ages creep closer and closer to 18 it is becoming obvious to the Prince and I that it may disappear for some of them as they are failing to grasp the tools we have been imparting to them for success outside our home.) 

Is our home wonderful?  We think so.  However not because of the list of stuff that is inside it, or the access to technology, or the full fridge, or any other specific "item" you could list.  Our home is wonderful because inside these four walls, one can grow, succeed, fail, mature, learn, and achieve while being protected, championed for, instructed and loved unconditionally.  Do any of us deserve unconditional love, NO!  However it is not about what we deserve, it is about modeling this in all situations so that the dwarfs can see the love of Christ.  So they can understand what it means to be committed to something greater than one's self, selfishness is what was modeled for them in their early years, and is hard wired into who they are now by extension.   However, what makes it wonderful in our eyes, makes it not so wonderful in their eyes, as accountability, the bar of responsibility, the anxiety of kind living, interacting with others, showing the love you are granted in return makes them extremely uncomfortable, and causes them to respond in the opposite manner you would expect.  Anger, frustration, tantrums, emotional shut downs, extreme blow ups, regressive behaviors, are exhibited by one or more dwarfs on a daily basis.  These extreme behaviors are rooted in a deep recess of their mind, one that they are unable or unwilling to let go of. 

In writing this post, it is my intention that when you hear a story similar to ours, that you give some deeper consideration in responding.  Sometimes silence is golden.  A smile or a handshake or hug and a simple Thank you can go a long way.   Sometimes if you know the person and or family in a more familiar way, the communication will be simple and clear.  For those that you meet, and you are hearing the story for the first time, perhaps consider other ways to phrase similar sentiments...

" Wow, you must be amazing people."  " I am amazed by what you have done." Or "I admire what you have chosen to do."

" Your rewards in heaven will be great!"  " I am sure this is more difficult than you imagined at times, but praise the Lord as it seems He has equipped you well for this journey,"

"Those kids you rescued must be so grateful."  " I would guess that your adopted kids are so grateful to be in such a wonderful home."   " I would guess that it is hard for kids to express their appreciation or even have an understanding of what you have done/provided for them, but I hope that someday they are able to understand and express gratefulness." 

I do know that those we are meeting, really are just trying to find a way to connect with us. I also recognize that most people now days do not have large families, and that fact alone makes people a bit uncomfortable.  But when they find out the large number of children was a purposeful and intentional act, then folks start feeling a bit off.   I can't say why, I have just seen it happen.  In a conversation that starts simply enough with, "Oh, how many kids do you have?" or "Is this your only daughter/son?"  there is a subtle shift in their eyes when the hear that we have 7 children, or we have 4 boys and 3 girls.

Look from what I hear, (again another often quoted phrase given to me as encouragement after hearing their ages) "You're in the home stretch now!"   Yes, if only that were so.  One is getting married, and one is graduating this year, and three will be in college next year.... but there is a lot of living and life to be done with a 12 year old who is mentally 8, and a 17 year old that learns on a 2nd grade learning level, or with a 16 year old that is just doing the bare minimum, because at 18 he becomes a famous sports figure.... Chances that I will ever be an empty nest-er are slim to none.    But I just smile and nod....

You really can't make this stuff up, but know that I can retell the tales of life with a large family, so that everyone we know and love can get a snap shot of life in the Kingdom. 

This is a story all about a boy, a hook and his passion for fishing

In the midst of the Easter preparation, with house guests a plenty, Bashful heads to the dock to do some early morning fishing...

Because of the number of people at my house, and the number of people that were planning to eat Easter dinner at my house directly after church, I was super prepared today.  I had my cake made, my eggs cut, my hams cooking, my veggies and potatoes in the crock pots heating.

I actually, by 10:15 am, sitting on the lanai drinking coffee and reading a book, when C. H. (Captain Hook, as we will affectionately call him for the remainder of this post) calls to me from the dock..."MOM, MOM, I have a hook in my head."    My initial response when he called to me was casual disbelief, shadowed by the dwarf's propensity for drama in all areas of his life. 

I yelled for him to stay put and I went to get the Prince.  The Prince, who did not think that he was needed, tried to get me to handle the situation.  However, on the off chance there really was a hook in his head, for any of you that know me, know that I am not so good with blood, or wounds, or really any symptoms that an injured or sick person would exhibit. As I am asking C.H. to stay put, and not move, he begins walking up from the water, rod in his hand, the line slack and the hook and lore attached to his head,  sort of looking like a zombie, I figure I certainly need the Prince to handle this situation.

C.H. arrives in front of the prince and the Prince cuts the line, they drop the pole on the porch, and head into the bathroom with a pair of needle nose pliers.  I scurry around looking for peroxide and cotton balls, to clean the wound after the hook is removed.  As all this is happening, C.H. is beginning to slowly panic about having a hook in his head.

Rather quickly the Prince assesses that this treble hook is firmly lodged in the dwarf's head, and that because of the barb, it is not going to come out at home with a pair of needle nose pliers.

While the Prince cuts off the lure,  I grab my purse, and the dwarf, and head to the closest emergency room.  Now as we drive, C.H. is beginning to slide into full panic mode.  For those of you that know him already, you are aware that he struggles with many of the easy things in life, so as you can imagine this "hook in the head"  situation now has his very active imagination in overdrive. 

Some of my favorite phrases of the drive: Please remember these phrases are being delivered multiple times, in rapid succession, with what sounds like a mouth full of marbles, as he cries and has snot running down his face.... 

" I just wish we had never moved here.  If we stayed in PA, I would have never hooked my head."
" I need dad, you can't help me."
" Can you just let it in there, it only burns a little and only hurts when I do this, as he shakes his head back and forth"
"I am never fishing again!'
"I am filing all the barbs off my hooks!" 
" I hate Florida. Florida is the reason there is a hook in my head."
" I know that the doctor is going to have to cut my brains out."
" I hate needles, there are going to be needles, I don't want needles, can you just leave it in?"

We arrive at the ER, and are admitted quickly, thanks to the young man that helped us, noticing that C.H. was special, and was struggling with obsessively freaking out about the unknown which he was claiming would be in part; the use of needles and scalpels and would require him to be put to sleep.

Several times staff or other visitors to the ER, stopped to tell C.H. that he was doing a great job, and that they knew someone or they themselves had at one time a hook lodged in part of their body.  Knee, hand, foot,  although no one that we ran into had ever had a hook in their head... which did eventually allow him to stop focusing on himself and think of others for a small bit.  We were shown to the ER bed, and the first nurse comes to us to access the situation with Kenneth quickly returning to full panic mode as he swears that while she is looking at the hook and moving his hair, that she is going to give him a shot, that she is trying to rip out the hook, and that she is going to push it in further.   I attempt to answer her questions, all the while having C.H. focus on me, and breathe while keeping up with the flowing snot from his nose as he begins crying again.   She is kind and attempts to reassure him, that he will be fine and that she really is just looking, but now his newest fear is that she is going to shave a bald spot on his head, and we go back to the few earlier phrases on repeat mode, adding in, "I can't have my hair cut out, it will never grow back in, I will have a stupid bald spot forever. "

In an attempt when the nurse leaves to reduce some of his panic, I take this photo, and show it to him.  Explaining that yes they may have to shave a section of his head to work on the removal, it would just be a little area because the hook is small, and that we can get him a hair cut so that it is all the same length on Monday.   He seems to calm down a bit more when he notices that the hook is indeed smaller than the hook in his head that his mind has created, and so we settle in to wait for the next step.

The nurses and I have a couple conversations about his special needs, his fixation on the hook and what he has imagined will happen and how we can transport him to the room for removal, without him seeing any of the "tools of the trade".  They bring him a cocktail of pain relievers, which he thinks is sleeping medicine, and immediately begins to act like he is falling asleep.  So that is fine, I will take it, it was calming and restored some sort of normalcy to him, helped the panic subside a bit and overall created a calmer dwarf.

We waited about 30 minutes for the pain meds to kick in, and the nurses came to take us to the private room so that they could do the removal of the hook.   Upon arrival to the room, they brought a pillow case to him, and had him put his arms behind him and in the pillow case.  This "merman" contraption, was a great source of comic relief for several minutes, until C.H. realized that he could not get his arms out, and was basically in a straight jacket of sorts, lying face down on the bed, ready for the nurse to remove the hook.

The procedure was actually pretty quick.  The staff was great at their job!  One nurse talked to him, while I held his hand through the pillow case, and rubbed the back of his leg, still laughing about him being a merman, as the second nurse injected him with the numbing medication.  He never saw that needle coming, but he sure felt it.  While he was still having some anxiety about the needle, the fast acting medication and the nurse were able to remove the offending hook,

and begin cleaning the area around the wound.  Just as he was feeling the sensation of the cleansing solution on his head, one quick shot from the staple gun, and we were finished.

Phew.  Still a bit concerned about the noise behind his head, he focused on sitting up and removing his pillow case, and it was a good 20 minutes until he wondered if there was something still in his head.  At which time we were able to tell him about his staple, to keep the wound shut.  Of  course that lead to another several moments of high anxiety as he was concerned about how big the staple remover would be that would "rip" that from his head in a few days...

I am convinced that there will always be something for that dwarf to be anxious about.  His mind is a hot mess of over imagination, brought on by his lack of ability to process things, and too much influence from outside forces like television and movies.  A melting pot for anxiety and stress to be sure.

So this is the tale of our Easter morning 2015.  Perhaps I should hide some eggs next year, or create a scavenger hunt, or fill some baskets and hide them.  Maybe I should have let them sleep in later, or had them working on their chores.... I was teasing C.H. that he sure picked a great way to get out of going to Easter Sunday services...

You really Can't Make this Stuff Up! 

PS- Mr, I am never going to fish again, was on the dock by 4PM.